


fake out

by zxrysky



Category: Joker Game (Anime)
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, ep 11 didn't happen, i'm so sad good lord, it's the truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 22:26:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7407532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zxrysky/pseuds/zxrysky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don’t die," Yuuki-san tells him in his office, gloved hand clasped with his other hand. A shadow’s on his face, and Miyoshi shrugs. </p><p>"I’ll try not to," he replies with a sharp grin.</p><p>*</p><p>Miyoshi finds another way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fake out

It’s not hard to imagine he’s dying. It’s not his imagination at all, actually. His heartbeat is going off the charts, pumping more blood out of his body and onto the pipe; his eyelids are fluttering and he’s not too sure if he’s sane. It makes perfect sense that he’s dying. 

 

Miyoshi opens one eye and stares at the pipe in his chest, watches it move with every breath he takes and he thinks with a bitter smile that this wasn’t how he intended on going out. Not with such a small cry, barely a sound, lost in a freak accident of a train crash. 

 

_ Don’t die _ , Yuuki-san said.  _ Don’t die _ ; Miyoshi’s said it himself, thrown it condescendingly at the new rookie whose morals were the tightest thing Miyoshi’s ever seen. That man had everything down on lock. 

 

Maybe death will welcome him like an old friend, he thinks, trying to calm his heartbeat and slow the blood flow, taking deep shuddery breaths that ache. No surprise there, not with a fucking pipe in his chest. It’s probably pierced his lung. It doesn’t feel like his lung has collapsed yet, so there’s a point. 

 

He can imagine Hatano biting the words out, that irritable smirk on his face as he leans in and whispers it slowly in front of Miyoshi. He’ll say something along the lines of  _ Miyoshi, you idiot _ , and Miyoshi will smile back and shrug, and say  _ but I won, didn’t I? _ Miyoshi is the better liar, the better deceptor, the better planner of the eight, but that is his sole consolation. His only redeeming factor is the fact that he can lie without his heartbeat jumping, without any tells or ticks and he can win almost any game of poker.

 

He imagines a plaque erected in his honor, placed in the kitchen, the designated area for poker nights. Probably done by Fukunaga or Jitsui, two men with humor scarily similar to his own.  _ To Miyoshi, _ it would read, and his lips curl up, blood staining the edges.  _ A stupid man who died from a train crash. The train won, as usual. He was a pretty good poker player _ .

 

He’s fully aware that he’s not supposed to laugh because laughter expels air from the lungs and right now there’s something  _ in _ his lungs but he chokes one out anyways, heady from the adrenaline pumping through his blood. He laughs quietly, breathy, fluid gathering in his punctured lung and he leans his head against the rubble.

 

_ Yuuki-san _ , he thinks, blinking hard. There’s enough energy left in him to swipe his bloody fist across the collar of his shirt - a marker, one that the man he recognises as a senior and a teacher will definitely understand.  _ Am I going to die? _

 

If his last moments is spent on this earth, he’s going to pray to someone; not a deity, because he has no faith in otherworldly beings. No, he’s going to pray to Yuuki-san, because if anyone deserves to be prayed to, it’s him.

 

He’s entirely delusional, eyesight getting blurry and he blinks harder. There’s something in his eye, something wet, but he isn’t quite sure if it’s blood or his tear ducts acting up. There is no fear in death, his mother told him once, and there’s another weak chuckle escaping his lips.

 

How fitting that the moment he is about to leave this world, he is reminded of his mother, the woman who left too early, the woman he had to forget to drown himself in his new job. 

 

_ Darling, do not fear death, _ his mother said quietly, wrapping a hand around his wrist. She was pale and sickly, rather what Miyoshi supposes he’ll look like right now.  _ Do not fear death, and death will let you live one more day. _

 

_ If I live one more day I’ll be captured _ , he thinks, and presses his lips together as a wave of pain hits him. It’s a sharp pain, aching and lasting and Miyoshi grips the pipe, as if threatening to rip the pipe out if it gets any worse. But he’s not stupid, and he’s fully aware that if he rips the pipe out he’ll die from blood loss a lot sooner.

 

If death comes to him, Miyoshi thinks, closing his eyes. He’ll be ready.

 

_ Don’t die _ , Yuuki-san whispers in his ear. Hatano is laughing, poker cards in his hand and he’s smirking at Miyoshi, the way he always does, and Jitsui is trading sides. Kaminaga is struggling with the game, first time in a long time, because he’s being distracted by Odagiri’s sleight of hands. Miyoshi can forgive him for that, because Odagiri’s sleight of hands is something to behold. Amari has folded, eyes trained on Miyoshi, and he’s working for Miyoshi’s side, probably, with the way his fingers twitch and his lips curl up at the edges.

 

Fukumoto is talking quietly with Tazaki at the side, and the moment Miyoshi feels his lips form the words  _ fold _ , Tazaki is slamming his hand over Miyoshi’s mouth, a smile on his face. 

 

“Don’t be stupid and fold now,” he says, grinning. He looks at Hatano, and his grin grows. “Are you really going to fold against Hatano and lose your streak?”

 

“I don’t want to lose money,” Miyoshi says in amusement, but it’s a weak defense, and everyone in the room can see through it. 

 

“Go all out,” Fukumoto says from where he’s standing near the door, pressed against the wall. “Just throw it all in. Take a gamble.”

 

“It’s not fair that you guys are helping him,” Hatano points out, eyes alight. “How about someone help me too?”

 

“You’re ready for loss,” Tazaki tells him straightforwardly, and Hatano raises an eyebrow. 

 

“You have money riding on his win, don’t you?”

 

Tazaki grins, unashamed. “Yes, and it’s a lot of money. Jitsui has money riding on  _ you _ , for what reason I don’t quite understand.”

 

“Because he recognises genius where it’s at,” Hatano replies, and the table erupts into laughter.

 

Miyoshi laughs too, and he can’t feel it hurting. Further proof that this is a hallucination, he thinks. He wouldn’t mind this being the last thing he sees, the one last slice of familiarity that his brain conjures up before he goes, well, wherever he goes. 

 

The door opens and it’s the newbie. Sakuma is staring at everyone in the room, a water jug in his hand, reminiscent of the first time they met in the room.

 

“Is Miyoshi folding?” That’s the first thing he says, and for some reason, with the calm acceptance that he says it with, Miyoshi bristles.

 

Miyoshi’s a spy, a  _ brilliant _ spy, and he’s trained all reactions out of himself. He can control his own reactions. He can control  _ others’ _ reactions. But he looks at Sakuma with his raised eyebrow and empty water jug and Miyoshi feels, feels something.

 

He lets a grin slowly take over his face, and his shoulders relax even further. “No,” he says, tossing more tokens into the middle. “I raise.”

 

Sakuma looks at him, jug half filled, and there’s a slight smile. Ex-military, Miyoshi thinks. No way of hiding his reactions.

 

“I thought so,” Sakuma says smugly, and Amari chokes on his sake with laughter. Sakuma’s  _ played _ Miyoshi, even though Miyoshi is fully aware he’s been played. “You have an actual plan or something?”

 

“I always have a plan,” Miyoshi says, like the cat that got all of the cream in the house. There’s a sense of immense satisfaction roiling through him, and his lips curl up. “I have plans on top of plans. All spies do.”

 

“And I suppose they’re somewhere I wouldn’t think of?” Sakuma asks, eyes lighting up. 

 

“Of course,” Miyoshi replies. “They’re somewhere no one would find.”

 

And Tazaki grins, blindingly bright. He slaps Miyoshi in the face, and Miyoshi blinks at him. 

 

“What?” He asks, vaguely confused. Tazaki is never so… physical. He prefers hanging out with pigeons.

 

“Which is why you aren’t folding,” Fukumoto tries to explain in Tazaki’s place. “Because you have another plan.”

 

“Use the backup plan,” Tazaki says, teeth bared. “Throw it all in.  _ Gamble _ . Aren’t you the two of spades?”

 

“Quickly,” Hatano complains. “I want to play.”

 

Miyoshi blinks, once, twice, and all at once the pain hits him again. It shocks him out of the hallucination and back into the real world, fingers clutching at the pipe and one hand already ripping off the skin patch he placed on the other hand.

 

There’s a pill hidden there; there are multiple pills hidden on his body, and he makes the effort to crush them all and scatter the powder. This pill however, located right at his wrist for easy access, this pill sends people in death like comas.

 

A month, he remembers Hatano telling him, smug at the fact that he knows something Miyoshi doesn’t. The pill works for a month before the body continues into death.

 

He chokes the pill down and swallows the wrapper for good measure.

 

_ Don’t die _ , Yuuki-san tells him in his office, gloved hand clasped with his other hand. A shadow’s on his face, and Miyoshi shrugs.  _ I’ll try not to _ , he replies with a sharp grin.

 

He’s showing his teeth, trying to challenge the top dog, and Miyoshi remembers Yuuki-san smiling back.

 

_ If you die, I’ll get someone to shame you for life. I’ve put many people down there. _

 

Miyoshi can feel his body shutting down, and he closes his eyes, lets his mind float. It feels like a dream, like his body doesn’t belong to his mind, like someone else is taking the reins.

 

_ Do not fear death, and death will let you live one more day _ .

 

He breathes quietly, and he does not fear death, even if it comes.

 

 

*

 

 

When he wakes up, everything hurts. His chest aches like no tomorrow, and his head spins. There’s echos of pain everywhere on his body.

 

Hatano sits next to him and offers him a cigarette. 

 

“Won’t this hurt my lungs?” Miyoshi asks, but takes one nonetheless. He spins it with his fingers and leans back against the pillows. Not a particularly good bed, not when he’s spent time in hotels in Germany, but it’s better than a coffin.

 

“Want a light?” Hatano says in reply, and Miyoshi lifts his cigarette up.

 

He puts it between his lips and takes a long drag, feels all the drugs sink into his system and feels the smoke clog up his lungs. He doesn’t hack, no matter how much it feels like he’s choking, and he breathes the smoke out.

 

It comes out in a slow wisp, and Miyoshi grimaces when he thinks how long it’ll take for him to get back to active duty.

 

They smoke in a peaceful quiet before Hatano starts talking. He doesn’t look at Miyoshi, which is a first, but his words are no less cutting.

 

“When did you finally realise you could use the pill?”

 

Miyoshi smiles gratifyingly and closes his eyes. “Late,” he says, and takes another inhale of smoke. “I was ready to leave.”

 

“Did you forget what Yuuki-san’s instructions were?” Hatano asks. “And right after you met him to report to him, too.”

 

“He told me to watch out for the wolf and its pups,” Miyoshi says, lips curling up. “He didn’t tell me to not die.”

 

“Probably because he thought it had gotten through your stupidly thick skull,” Hatano replies.

 

There’s another silence, and Hatano is once again the first one to break it.

 

“We almost didn’t make it.” Miyoshi opens his eyes at that and looks at Hatano, weighing his words, watching his body. Hatano doesn’t seem like he’s lying. Then again, Miyoshi can only tell when Hatano is lying sixty percent of the time. 

 

“Make what?”

 

“Getting your body out of that coffin and forcing you to swallow the antidote.” There’s a fond smile on Hatano’s lips, like he’s reminiscing about a spring afternoon with his loved one instead about how they almost didn’t save Miyoshi. “Your throat refused to work.”

 

“Probably because I was suffering from hypothermia.”

 

“That’s no excuse,” Hatano reminds him, raising an eyebrow. “Remember Yuuki-san’s training? We were all suffering from hypothermia at some point.”

 

He furrows his brows, and peers closely at Miyoshi.

 

“Miyoshi,” he says with delight. “Has dying made you a worse liar?”

 

And Miyoshi can’t help but laugh because Hatano is an  _ idiot _ , and Miyoshi, in a weird twist of events, has missed the man.

 

“Want to play a game of poker later?” Miyoshi offers, and flicks the ash into the ashtray at his bedside table. 

 

Hatano levels a look at him, and there’s a smile on his face when he shrugs. “Nah, think maybe I’ll go out for a drink with Amari and Kaminaga. You can join us if you think you can walk.”

 

Miyoshi isn’t deaf, regrettably, then he wouldn’t have to listen to Hatano talk, and he can hear a challenge when one is posed to him.

 

“Maybe I will,” he replies, endlessly petty, and bares his teeth in a smile.

 

Hatano does the same, and this camaraderie is familiar, it’s heady, it’s so comfortable Miyoshi could break down and sob his heart out because of how  _ relieved _ he is to be alive and-

 

“Thanks,” Miyoshi says, the word rushing out of him before he can think twice.

 

Hatano looks surprised, and even presses the back of his hand against Miyoshi’s forehead.

 

“You’re not welcome,” Hatano replies, smirking. “You can just owe me.”

 

Miyoshi laughs again, bright and happy, and he doesn’t miss how Hatano relaxes.

 

“I owe everyone,” he says, and though that thought should rest heavy on his mind, Miyoshi is happy. 

 

Is this what they mean by survivor’s delirium?

 

Hatano looks at him, eyes giving away nothing, and all of a sudden, he shakes Miyoshi’s hand.

 

“Miyoshi-san, you fine idiot,” he says pleasantly, shaking hard. “Please stop being so delirious. You may give Sakuma a heart attack with how free you are with owing people and showing emotions.”

 

“A heart attack would do him good,” Miyoshi replies, and Hatano laughs.

 

_ Do not fear death, and death will let you live one more day _ , he thinks, and his lips tilt upwards.

 

“Don’t die,” he calls out mockingly as Hatano opens the door, and Hatano gives him the finger in return.

 

“You’ll miss me too much if I do,” Hatano throws back, and the door closes.

 

Miyoshi drags in a deep breath of sweet, sweet air, and falls back against the pillows. The cigarette is still in his hands and he inhales. The smoke is bitter, tastes like a nightmare, and Miyoshi lets it dig a spot in his heart cavity and call it home.

 

There’s a knock on the door and it opens right after, a head of black hair poking through. 

 

“Miyoshi?”

 

Ah, Miyoshi thinks, feeling unsettlingly pleased. It’s the newbie.

 

Sakuma enters and Miyoshi isn’t sure why, but something inside of him preens at the attention.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you aren't sure why Miyoshi is the two of spades, in tai ti (the card game I love the most) the two of spades is the largest card in the deck, not the ace.
> 
> Please leave a review on your way out or drop by my [twitter](https://twitter.com/zxrysky) and [tumblr](http://zxrysky.tumblr.com/)


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